


In the Storm

by stonegirl77



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cap being awesome, F/M, Fluff, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2829371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonegirl77/pseuds/stonegirl77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a blizzard outside, and the reader can't get warm...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea for a oneshot, and it wouldn't let me alone until I wrote it...
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and that you stay out of whatever weather is assaulting you this time of year!

I had been curling up more and more lately. I’d noticed it happening more frequently when Steve was gone. He left on missions, and when I was sitting on the couch, or trying to fall asleep, I curled up, trying to make myself as small as possible.

When I had first noticed, I tried to make myself stop. I uncurled on the couch, I stretched out on the bed. But within fifteen minutes, I was curled back up into a ball. Eventually I figured that if curling up was the only manifestation of my worry for Steve, it was fine. It wasn’t like it was harmful, after all.

Tonight, though, there were a few reasons for me to be curled up. One, Steve was gone. He’d been called out on a mission six days ago, one without an end date, and I hadn’t heard anything from him in a day or two. Not that it was cause for worry in and of itself. Sometimes Steve, well-meaning as he was, just didn’t have time to reassure his panicky girlfriend that he was, in fact, alive and in one piece. He had better things to do - like protecting himself. And, upon occasion, everyone else as well.

So I was curled up on my couch with a blanket tucked up to my chin. It was storming outside, and I hadn’t been able to get warm since I’d come home from work. A bowl of soup, three cups of tea, even Steve’s oversized hoodie and the socks my grandma had knitted me for Christmas three years ago hadn’t managed to completely warm me through. I was considering running a bath with only hot water as I watched TV. Renovation and cooking shows were my vice. I loved them all - I daydreamed about the perfect house I’d someday buy, maybe with Steve, doing it up exactly the way I wanted it. And having a supersoldier boyfriend did give me a lot of opportunity to try cooking new things. So I channel-surfed and curled up into an even smaller ball.

The scalding hot bath was sounding even better as I made cup of tea number four, blanket abandoned temporarily on the couch. My teeth chattered slightly  as I waited for the kettle to boil- I didn’t feel cold like a normal person - my teeth would chatter before I got goosebumps or started shivering. The wind was blowing on the windows, and snow was pelting on the panes of glass, trying to get in. I was suddenly very grateful for the relative warmth of the house and the fact that I wasn’t outside in the storm. I hoped Steve wasn’t out in this weather.

I heard someone outside the door and turned. Steve hadn’t called me to let me know he was coming over, and he always called. We weren’t quite to the point of sharing a place yet, and so, gentleman that he was, he always called first before coming over, to check if it was all right. It always was, of course. 

But he hadn’t called, and someone was definitely outside. I hadn’t heard a car pull up, but the storm was so loud, and the TV was on, and the water was boiling, and someone was turning a key in the lock.

The door opened, and my favourite person stood in the doorway, head covered with snow. 

“Steve!” I hurtled over to him and into his arms, not caring about the rush of cold air that accompanied the open door. 

“_________,” He murmured into my hair. He held me with one arm, closing the door with the other. Now Steve was home and I couldn’t stop shivering. “I’m sorry I didn’t call - my phone died. And I think it got too cold.” He noticed my shaking. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” He pulled away far enough so he could see my face. I just smiled at him and buried my face in his chest.

“I’m good,” I said, loudly enough so he could here me. “You’re here, so I’m good.” His arms tightened around me, and, before I knew it, he’d lifted my face to his and was kissing me. I kissed back. 

Not that I could ever get enough of kissing Steve, but our welcome-back, post-mission kisses were by far my favourite. Mostly because they ended up with me pinned against a wall, panting hard, and Steve kissing his way along my collarbone and up and down my neck before returning to my lips once more. This time was no exception, and I twisted my fingers in his now-wet hair as he moved back up for a proper kiss. 

When we came up for air, or, more appropriately, when I came up for air, we moved to the couch, still festooned with the remnants of my quest for warmth. The blanket was still over one arm of the couch, and I hadn’t cleaned up my soup bowl, or my old tea mugs. Steve raised an eyebrow at me in silent question as we sat. I hated how he did that - the slightest change of expression made me spill.

“I couldn’t get warm tonight,” I said, crossing my arms defensively. “I tried soup, and tea, and a blanket, and your hoodie - I was considering practically parboiling myself in the bathtub, and you know how much I hate taking a bath.” Steve just looked at me, still in his hoodie, then at the couch, then back at me. 

“And are you warm now?” he asked.

I snuggled into his hold as he threw the blanket over my lower half as I considered, briefly. “Yup.” I was warm. Gloriously so. “How’d you get in, anyway?” I asked, turning my head to look at his face. “I thought the airport was closed.” I knew it was, in fact. I’d watched the local news earlier just in case I heard from Steve. 

I felt him shrug, and the guy actually avoided my eyes. “Steve,” I said, drawing it out. “What did you do?” For all that Captain America was supposed to be a stand-up, straight-forward, apple pie guy, I’d soon learned that Steve Rogers wasn’t above sneaky tactics, especially if he thought it was important. 

He looked at me, and, as always, I found it a bit hard to concentrate. He had such blue eyes, and they looked like nothing so much as a sad puppy. At the last moment, I poked him. “Rogers,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “Spill.”

He smiled at me, and I melted into him even more, if that was possible. “Nat wanted to get home.”

“Sure. _Natasha_ wanted to get home,” I said drily, interrupting him.

He put a finger to my lips. “If you keep interrupting me, I won’t tell you the daring tale of Captain Rogers’ trip through the snowy wastes,” he teased, eyes crinkling. I made a face at him. “Anyway. Natasha wanted to get home - she and Clint had made plans, or something, and I had absolutely nothing against getting back a day or two earlier.” He shrugged. “So Nat drove us into town, and I jogged the last mile or so to your place.”

My jaw dropped. He closed it. “You’ll catch flies,” he teased again, kissing my cheek. 

“You ran a few miles - and what’s a few miles for you, anyway, a half-marathon or something?”

“Five miles or so, I think,” he replied. It was nothing, apparently.

“You ran five miles. In this weather. To come and see me?” I was still flabbergasted. Five miles. In a storm. In nothing but jeans, combat boots and a leather jacket. Only Steve Rogers.

“Anything for my best girl.” Another shrug. I was embarrassing him now, I could tell. So instead of dwelling on the fact that he’d just run five - FIVE - miles through a blizzard just so he could say hi instead of hanging out at SHIELD HQ until the storm broke, I decided to show my appreciation.

I kissed him.

 

 

When I woke up the next morning, with Steve a portable space heater at my back, I realised something. Instead of being curled up in a ball, I was stretched out, my feet almost hitting the foot of the bed. I smiled and rolled over, Steve’s arm tightening around my waist.


End file.
